


And It Isn't Perfect, But It Is Enough

by art_deco_deity



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post BotW, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 18:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18058118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/art_deco_deity/pseuds/art_deco_deity
Summary: They were physically closer then they had been in one hundred years, but somehow farther apart then they could've ever predicted. She doesn't recognize this new version of her knight, and he doesn't know how to exorcize all the ghosts haunting her.





	And It Isn't Perfect, But It Is Enough

**Author's Note:**

> ee hope you enjoy the angst. idk why im such a sad bitch but maybe eventually i'll actually write my favorite two being happy and in love together.

When they arrived at Hateno Village, it had been three days and two nights since Calamity Gannon's end. Their entire journey could be summed up in hours of tense silence, quiet anguish, and on Link's end, immense pain. The two hylians didn't talk much; there was one-hundred years and an ancient evil stuck in-between them. That kind of thing, in their experience, seemed to make normal conversation a little more stilted and heavy.

"The stable is out back, I'll take the horses." Link swung his legs off his horse, jumping down to the ground and landing on his feet with a soft thud. He walked around to where Zelda had halted her horse, offering her a hand.

Moments like that made them both a little sad. Link had lost a lot during his time in the Shrine of Resurrection, but little mannerisms like the way he helped her dismount seemed to remain. It reminded Zelda of a time long before where he had been silent, and she had been royalty.

There was something sad in the way she kept holding onto the way they were, and she found the Link that stood before her now horribly unfamiliar. The Link that helped her off her horse that afternoon spoke freely, laughed loudly with travelers he knew, and swore under his breath when they encountered monsters. And while it was a far cry from the stoic knight she had originally met, it wasn't a bad change. In fact Zelda welcomed the way his voice cut through the often terrifying silence.

Zelda inspected the sign outside of the house, running her fingers over the carved wood. She was stalling. There was a very big part of her that wanted to rush inside and look at everything she could possibly find, but the other part remained rooted in royalty, and left her waiting for permission. Zelda supposed she had no reason to act royal anymore; there was no kingdom, her destiny had been completed, and all of the people her father ever lead -besides the long-lived Zora of course- had long since passed. But Zelda felt out of place, and holding onto the nobility she tried so hard to abandon for so long alleviated a bit of the alienation.

Link's steps were loud and disruptive as he strode past her to open the door. Zelda had taken notice of how being in Hateno Village seemed to strip him of all pretenses of stealth and vestigial means of defense. He moved languidly here, shoulders slouched and all his weapons sheathed. He was relaxed. It was a sight the princess had never seen from the Link she used to know, but one she found fascinating in the one she was currently familiarizing herself with. He deserved rest and relaxation, she thought, a soft smile stretching across her face.

Link passed through the threshold of his house, throwing the weapons slung across his back up into racks along the walls. Zelda remained outside, standing just outside the door, worrying if she was truly being a bother. She figured Link had no obligation to her now; Calamity Gannon had been vanquished, he had freed her, and every other heroic debt Link had never even owed in the first place had been payed in full. She thought she held no necessary place within his home, so Zelda stood outside and studied the grass beneath her feet.

"Come in. You must be tired." Link said frankly, leaning against the doorway and offering her his hand.

There is was again; the same hand back once again to lead her. Her mind battled against her heart as Zelda contemplated going inside. Half of her wanted to go into the house, fall into the bed Zelda had no doubt lied within, and sleep for a millennia. But the other half of Zelda felt guilty as she assessed the many wounds covering his body; Gannon had physically inflicted them, but she condemned Link to those scars from the second she put him into the shrine.

"Are you sure? I can find an inn if you'd like a night by yourself. I don't want to intrude, saving me was enough, and..." She rambled on, her cheeks getting more red with each passing second.

"Come inside." He said simply, stepping outside to where she still stood. He smiled at her, grabbing a hold of her wrist gently and leading her in.

Link's house was a monument to all he had seen and done since coming out of the shrine. Along the walls were racks of strange weapons, jars of collected herbs, and sets of armor waiting to be upgraded by the great fairies. Everything within was left in haphazard piles or messily hung up, Zelda observed. The mess should have been expected, she reasoned, of course Link didn't have time to organize. He had her to go and save, after all.

Zelda did that a lot: tell herself that Link 'saved her'. It wasn't true of course, as he only aided her while she herself vanquished Calamity Gannon, but it was a habit she couldn't help. Her father had raised her in such a fashion that Zelda now believed she could never be nearly as powerful as she needed to be. The constant prayer sessions, arguments, and belittling of her youth had taken a toll on the princess; no matter how much Zelda wished to deny it. And even though King Rhoam had passed, and the Kingdom of Hyrule no longer existed, the ghosts of both still continued to haunt Zelda.

Zelda followed Link's confident steps into the kitchen. He motioned to a chair, and she sat herself at the table hesitantly. It was quiet as Link took to the stove and began creating a stew out of an assortment of vegetables, the gentle clank of the occasional pot sounding against his gentle humming. He turned away from the stove and Zelda watched with subdued curiosity as he lit the fireplace; it was the most domestic she had ever seen the knight, and a bit of her melted as she watched. Link returned to the stove, but not before glancing over at Zelda, and asking her if she'd like something to drink.

"No it's okay, really. I thank you so much for your gratitude, but you truly don't need to do anything else. This is enough." She cast her hands in front of her face, motioning to all that surrounded her.

He didn't say anything, only turning to a cabinet, grabbing a cup and filling it with water. Link placed the drink in front of her anyway, and walked back to the stove.

After the first night, they had fallen into an odd kind of routine. Instead of opening up and making up for all the lost time, Zelda had closed herself off. She believed herself to be a burden upon her knight, so she hardly spoke unless spoken to, and never asked him for anything. Link fell back into the familiar silence around her as a result, and it was almost like before Hyrule had fallen. Everything she had ever wanted to say to Link over the past century sat heavy and thick upon her tongue, choking her into silence. There was too much time, too much loss, and never enough rest; their destiny had always decreed them to be separated by Gannon, and even though Gannon had been vanquished, his evil left a divide between them.

Link emptied the stew into two separate bowls, and the most delicious scent swirled through the room. He really was a fantastic cook, and Zelda found herself thanking Hylia for this new-found skill with every meal she ate. He set the bowl in front of her gently, taking a seat opposite of her.

Link wasted no time at all, digging into the meal he prepared with unabashed vigor. The sight of him across from her, eating like an absolutely starved animal, made Zelda smile. This view was familiar; it was nice to know that little bits of the boy she used to know remained. Zelda could remember nights spent around blazing campfires, slightly dubious food, and the most amazing friends. Now it was just her, Link, and the bittersweetness souring her meal because although Link still dripped stew all over his tunic in his enthusiasm, the champions were not there to laugh with her. The table felt empty, no matter how grateful she was to still be here with him.

Link finished before her, and pushed his bowl to the side. He disappeared into the other room, and brought the master sword and a cloth back with him when he returned. Link placed the large sword on the table with a loud metallic clang, and the sound alone made her jump a little in her seat. Link glanced up at her, a slight smirk on his face. He was teasing her, Zelda realized, and suddenly his face became that much more familiar to her. The teasing was something she recognized, a bit of her old Link given back to her, and Zelda shot him a small smile back.

"You still keep your weapons on the table I see." Zelda took a sip of her drink, looking at him over the rim of a tip-backed cup. "Have I taught you nothing?"

Link only smiled brightly, turning his face back down to his sword and shaking his head. He was still shy, Zelda observed, and it warmed her to see how Link still tried to hide his blushing smile from her.

They lapsed back into silence, the only sounds an occasional clank from Zelda's spoon, and the soft sound of cloth as Link polished his sword. If she closed her eyes, Zelda was back before the Calamity, and she swore she could hear the laughter of the champion's surrounding her. The thought made her sad, because although Zelda never particularly liked sleeping on the ground, she'd suffer through all the sore muscles necessary just to camp out with her cherished friends one last time.

\---

Link took small, furtive glances at Zelda in between looking down and polishing his sword. Truly the master sword didn't quite need such an extensive cleaning; especially as it hadn't gotten that damaged, but he liked the domesticity of Zelda eating a meal at his table, in his house, so he quickly found himself with cloth and sword.

Throughout the past few days of travel, he had often looked at Zelda, only to see her lost in thought. Link guessed those thoughts were almost always torturous if the grimace often stretched across her face was any indication. He still felt an innate want to protect her from anything and everything, but Link realized there wasn't anything he could do about her grief. And he figured, maybe his memory loss was a part of the problem too. Zelda didn't often talk to him, but when she did her voice was filtered through a thick layer of oppressive guilt. So Link kept his mouth shut tight, not wanting to upset her.

There were a million things he wanted to say to her: some of them were words of thanks for her encouragement during his quest, others were how she was the first and only thing he remembered for a long while after waking up in the shrine, and most of the remaining things were just about how much he missed her. Zelda had been a beacon of pure light during his journey; a bit of happiness on the horizon, lying just past the Calamity. Now she was here, safe within the walls of his house, and all he wanted was for her to stay.

Zelda seemed to think she was some type of burden, an absolute ridiculous notion in his mind. She had spent the last one-hundred years staving off the greatest evil imaginable, of course he'd take her in willingly. Truthfully, Link felt an incredible guilt for leaving her alone that long, but making her meals and giving her a safe, warm place to sleep alleviated a bit of that weight.

Zelda cleared her throat quietly, and placed her spoon back into the bowl. "That was very good. Thank you, Link." She said softly.

"Of course." He replied softly, taking their two empty bowls to the basin to rinse them.

"When did you buy this place?" Zelda's voice is small, tentative and hesitant; but the fact she's talking to him brings a grin to Link's face regardless.

"A few months ago. Right after I freed Vah Ruta. I needed somewhere to keep the champion's weapons, I didn't want to use them until Calamity Gannon."

"Oh." She said. Zelda laced her hands together politely upon the table, and Link saw the curious look on her face.

"They're still up. I didn't use them. I can show them to you if you like." He offered hopefully.

"Yes." She breathed out. "I would like that very much."

Link, without a thought, helps Zelda up from her chair. He holds her hand in his lightly, guiding her to the wall in the main room where all the champion's weapons remained hung up, side by side.

They started on the left, and Link watched Zelda's breath catch as she looked at the bow lying just behind the glass. It was unmistakably rito in design, with golden wings capping the ends: Revali's Great Eagle Bow. Zelda brought her hand up, tracing along the outline of it. She shuddered, remembering that this weapon was all that was left. It was proud, brightly-colored, and indubitably strong, just like it's champion; a tear fell and Zelda brought a sleeve up to catch it.

"We can take it out, if you'd like to hold it." Link offered softly. Zelda nodded, letting go of his hand.

Link felt the absence of her fingers in his sharply as he took the bow out of it's mount. He handed the bow to Zelda and watched as she took it in her hands.

His heart broke as he watched her touch the edges tentatively, like they'd burn her if she held too tight. Something in her face spoke of ghosts and misery and years lost and dead friends. There was nothing he could do for her, no matter how much Link wanted to take her pain away. So instead he left Zelda to her memories, and gathered the rest of the champion's weapons in his arms. Link looked back to find Zelda kneeling on the ground, cradling the bow like a long lost child, silent tears falling down her face. Link, arms full of gear and a heart full of sorrow, sat himself next to her, crossing his legs under him.

If Zelda noticed his arrival next to her, she didn't make it known. All Link could see was the way she seemed to draw in on herself, staring past the bow in her arms. Link could see the distance between them in her eyes, and found himself scooting closer to her as a result. It was enough, but it was better, and she gave him a sad sort of smile, looking up from the weapon, as he got closer. 

The afternoon was spent in tears; a common occurrence in most moments since they'd been reunited. Their collective sorrow was unavoidable, and Link found himself sobbing with her.

As tears of his own dropped, the knight came to the conclusion that maybe he didn't deserve to let them fall. He didn't remember much, and believed his emotions to be, to a certain extent, entirely artificial. He looked over at Zelda, finding that she was beside herself with grief, and Link felt the guilt eating him alive. She remembered everything. There was nothing he could do to fix that, and he hated Calamity Gannon even more for all he continued to steal from them. 

Link hadn't realized when he'd gotten so close, but as he handed her Urbosa's Scimitar, Zelda crashed into his arms easily. She collided with his chest, tears soaking his tunic, and Link brought his hands around her, carding them though the ends of her blonde hair. It would have been a tender moment; but Zelda hugged the scimitar to her chest, whispered Urbosa's name into it like a prayer, and suddenly everything tasted melancholic instead. 

They worked through each weapon together, taking them into their shared hold like precious god-given gifts. Zelda and Link had little to remember their friends by, but they'd take what they could get and cherished the abysmal remains all the same. Once Zelda's sobbing subsided into just tears, she looked up from where she was tucked into his chest, blinking blearily up at Link.

"How much do you remember about them?" Her voice came out shaky, and it practically maimed the knight to hear how much guilt she carried within it. 

Link recounted to her exactly how much he'd learned about their friends through his travels. He told Zelda about Sidon, and Yunobo, and Teba, and Chief Riju. Told her about how all of them helped him understand who the champions were and how he knew them. He told her about freeing the divine beasts, and meeting their friend's spirits. He described how they looked sea-glass green and how they still talked to their respective divine beasts like old friends. Zelda choked out a watery laugh when Link recounted how Revali doubted him up until the very end. She smiled with an unbridled fondness when he tried to imitate Daruk's voice and loud, room-filling laughter. Link got quieter as he recalled Mipha; he stood up, pulled his zora armor off the wall to show her, and finally pointed out to Zelda all the places he'd have scars if he didn't have Mipha's blessing. And finally, Link told Zelda about Urbosa; about how tall and intimidating her spirit was, how she bestowed the scariest blessing he'd ever experienced, and how she was so so proud of her little bird. 

At the sound of the old nickname, Zelda's sobs began anew; but this time there was a soft smile accompanying the tears, her eyes so very far away but so very warm. He couldn't put a finger on what exactly she was feeling, but she clutched his tunic like he was the only real thing she'd ever known, and it suddenly didn't matter if he understood. His confusion was fine; he could deal with it, as long as she was finally getting a little bit of the endless peace she deserved more than anything. 

Link continued to run his fingers through her hair, softly pushing stray hairs away from her face. She was curled into him, legs tucked in like a child, seeking shelter from all the memories plaguing her. Zelda had gotten quiet now, the occasional hiccup here and there, but otherwise still. Link weighed the outcomes of his question in his mind, hoping it wouldn't set her off into another wave of emotional turbulence she couldn't handle. 

Link had watched Zelda, these past few days of traveling, become overwhelmed with a torrent of visible despair every time she looked in his direction. It was a quiet sadness, hidden just behind her eyes and in the straight line of her mouth; but Link had been dreaming of her face since he'd woken up, so it was incredibly apparent to him that something was wrong with his princess. There was something about him that upset her, and he was willing to do whatever it took to fix it. 

He took a breath, gathering her closer into him. "Why do you look so sad when you see me?"

Link understood the stupidity of the question the second it left his mouth. He watched Zelda crumble, her eyebrows drawing inward as she curled up around herself and became small in his arms. 

"I don't mean to. Really. It's not your fault." She began, before being cut off by her own hiccup. Zelda breathed deeply, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. "It's just that you are so different from how I remember. Not a bad different, just unfamiliar." 

Zelda moved her thumb across his cheek, feeling the way Link leaned into her hand. All was quiet and warm, they were together and they had both lived. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to give her the strength to continue. 

"Sometimes, I remember who you used to be. He was quiet and closed off and almost never looked at me. I didn't like him very much." She chuckled sadly, looking up at Link in a way that made his heart ache. "But you laugh so loudly, and walk so freely and there are always happy people around you. I think you are who he would've been if he had been given the time to grow up. It does hurt a little to remember because you have his face and yet you are so different; it's like looking at the ghost of the boy I once knew. But you have grown and done so much; and you now, this new Link, is someone I am blessed just to know. So yes, I think I might always mourn a little bit for the boy I never got to watch grow up, but it has nothing to do with anything you've done. You saved me, and I will be forever grateful."

Link had been cold since the second he awoke in the Shrine of Resurrection; but now found himself ablaze with an inferno of warmth. He felt it in his toes, crawling up through his legs and into his torso. It sat in his torso, burning through his chest and threatening to burst out. He smiled in softest way, bringing his face to her hair and hugging her close. Nothing was fixed, they still had so much to clean up, but Zelda was in his arms, warm and soft and safe, and it was enough. 

"I missed you so much, Zelda. Even when I didn't know who you were." Link whispered into her hair, uttering her name like it held divinity. "Please stay here with me." It sounded desperate, and Link could feel the way he begged on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't care. She was here, and he had finally saved her, and he didn't plan on letting her go. 

"Are you sure?" She asked quietly, a voice full of self-doubt and a timid fear. "You have no obligation to me, you finished your duty as my knight the second the Calamity ceased. I would understand if you didn't want this anymore." 

"Please just stay." 

She nodded, tucking her face under his chin and breathing into his neck. Link had so desperately wished for this outcome; for her to stay with him, that he found himself in disbelief that it had actually happened. Zelda had always seemed like his one shot at happiness, he knew it from the second he heard her voice within the Shrine. Now she was here, and he had his arms around her, and Link could feel that she was more real than anything he could've ever hoped for. Her skin was soft in his hands, her hair longer then he remembered, and her soft smile more comforting then anything else he'd ever seen. 

Link had always suspected that he had been in love with Zelda at one point in the past, but sitting there, wrapped up and at her mercy, he was sure he never stopped loving her. Even when he forgot everything else, she remained.


End file.
